


Mine to Touch

by piginapoketuesday



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Bloodplay, Bondage, Boys Kissing, Bruises, Cock Cages, Cock Worship, Constant Stimulation, Dominant Hannibal, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Feeding, For the most part, Hand Feeding, Hannibal is gentle when he wants to be, Hickeys, Knifeplay, M/M, Needles, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Sensation Play, Submissive Will, The empath needs to heal, Touching, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Will is extremely docile
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-05-27 20:30:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6299245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piginapoketuesday/pseuds/piginapoketuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You respond so well to hand feeding," Hannibal said, watching Will's hips squirm. "I'm considering binding you for every meal."</p><p>Will's neck flushed with fear. Never being allowed to feed himself again. Learning to associate food with a swollen, untouched cock. Swallowing prettily and on command. His body betrayed him, and he moaned around the fork in his mouth.</p><p>~</p><p>Lots of constant stimulation, feeding kink, and orgasm denial. Also lots of love and care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Their safe word is "Theremin," as it is in all my D/s fics.

Will's hands were bound behind his back with the softest leather Hannibal could find. His shoulders ached a bit, but that was nothing that couldn't be fixed with a little oil and some practiced fingers. His most pressing issue at the moment was his cock, red and erect between his slim thighs. It had been like that for hours, with only brief intervals of softness when Hannibal was merciful and left him alone to cool off. Will was so tender, not just at his naked sex, but all over his body. His skin was both broken out in goosebumps and emitting an enormous amount of heat. Arousal pooled at the base of his throat, and even swallowing made his cock twitch. He was a slave to the sensations, and to the voice that entered the room.

"Will, you must be cold." Hannibal's tone was gentle as he retrieved a blanket from the chest by the silent fireplace.

"Yes," Will said, mostly so that Hannibal would touch him again. "Thank you."

Hannibal approached the couch, his blue three-piece looking inappropriately lavish. "Does my love ache?" he asked, tucking the blanket around Will's shoulders and pointedly brushing his bullet wound scars. "Needy little lamb." He nuzzled softly at Will's temple, and Will whined. "You're dripping again. Spread your thighs for me, and I will take care of that."

Will swallowed and obeyed as Hannibal knelt in front of him. He watched in desperation as Hannibal's tongue touched a stream of his precum and licked all the way up to his slick head. He writhed and tried to breathe, too sensitive and lingering on the edge.

"Is something hurting you, Will?" Hannibal asked before tasting another stream and suckling errant drips from his balls.

Will knew better than to question his master's methods, so he endured the slow cleaning in Hannibal's warm mouth. 

When he was finished, Hannibal kissed Will's knee and stood. "This must be difficult for you, but I enjoy seeing you so unraveled. You're flushed, Will, and you respond so . . ." He rubbed his thumb over Will's erect nipple and earned a moan, "Beautifully. To the slightest touch." He stroked the column of Will's throat with two fingers. "Would it be cruel to bruise you so intimately, and mark you as my own?"

Will thought he would come at the first press of Hannibal's mouth on his neck. "Please," he whined, craving Hannibal's warmth more than life.

"Try to sleep," he said. "A soft cock is ideal for what I have planned for dinner."

Blushing at Hannibal's clinical treatment, Will curled up on the couch.

"Ah, no, love," Hannibal chastised. "Turn away from the cushions, Will. I can't have you pleasuring yourself against them. That's it. Good. I'll leave you to rest now." He leaned down to kiss Will's damp forehead. "You're suffering so handsomely for me," he cooed, brushing back warm, wet curls.

Will leaned into the touch, depraved and feverish. He would have done anything for the continued pressure of those fingertips and the sound of that voice saying his name.

"Dream of me, Will." Hannibal smoothed the blanket over his lover's back and left for the kitchen.

Ignoring the slippery ache between his thighs as best as he could, Will closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

~

Gentle pressure at his throat startled Will out of an abstract dream. He opened his eyes to find Hannibal staring down at him, and he felt the lingering wetness of lips on his neck.

"I considered leaving you to rest for longer," Hannibal said, his voice soft. "In sleep, you put angels to shame. My delicate, flushed, heavenly thing."

Will swallowed and dropped his eyes demurely.

"Don't let shame keep you from me, Will," Hannibal said, reaching up to stroke the younger man's scarred cheek. "You are adored."

His chest warmed. "Hannibal," he mumbled, closing his eyes.

"Dinner is ready," he said fondly, thumbing Will's ear, "Would you join me?"

Will nodded and eased himself off the couch.

Hannibal looked approvingly at his soft cock, limp but still slick with evidence of previous arousal. "I've made your favorite dish."

~

In the dining room, Will was freed of his leather cuffs and strapped into new ones that locked his wrists to the table top on either side of his place setting. His ankles were strapped to the legs of the chair. "Is this completely necessary?" he asked, gauging Hannibal's good mood as appropriate for speaking out of turn. "I have no intention of disobeying you."

Hannibal smiled. "This exercise requires absolute vulnerability, Will. Excuse me for a moment while I retrieve our meal."

Will waited until Hannibal returned with a gleaming plate of food. Citrus glazed swordfish and oven roasted asparagus. He knew it by aroma alone, without the chef's usual announcement of its contents. "That smells incredible, Hannibal," Will said, his mouth watering.

"As do you," Hannibal said, setting the hot plate down at his own seat.

Will blushed just as Hannibal knew he would, from ears to groin. "I suppose," he said, slightly flustered, "I won't be feeding myself tonight." He flexed his hands at the end of the leather cuffs.

"I am perhaps selfish in this, but I can hardly deny myself an hour of you swallowing for me." Hannibal's eyes never flinched away from Will's. He might as well have been conversing about the weather.

Will felt a twinge of pleasure between his spread thighs.

Hannibal took his seat at the table and tucked in. He sipped from his glass: a pear-colored white wine. Then he picked up his fork and knife and cut a bit of fish. He held the fork to Will's mouth. "Open for me."

Obediently, Will parted his lips. The glaze melted against his tongue as he bit into the fish. He closed his eyes, savoring, partly for his own enjoyment, but mostly for Hannibal's benefit.

"Swallow," Hannibal said. "You look lovely like this, bare at my table."

Will's cock twitched.

"Is my little lamb aroused?" Hannibal asked, slicing into the swordfish again, this time for himself.

Will ducked his head. "I'm sorry. I can't control myself."

Hannibal smiled slightly. "Tell me, what is it about this meal that leaches your control?"

His ears felt so warm. "Everything."

"How?" Hannibal offered his naked pet another bite.

Will chewed and swallowed dutifully. "You control me," he said, averting his eyes.

"Look at me, Will. Again."

Their eyes met, power and submission. "You control me." Blood filled his cock and brought back the beginnings of a familiar ache.

"Is that what this is?" Hannibal asked.

Will's brow wrinkled. "What else could this be?"

"An exchange. One lover testing another," Hannibal offered.

"Lover or slave?" Will asked, bitingly.

Hannibal twined his fingers through Will's across the table. "Is a willing slave still a slave?"

"I'm shackled all the same," Will said, kinder now.

"Would you like more fish?" Hannibal readied his fork.

Will remembered his place. "Please."

With each bite, Will waited to receive permission to swallow. He felt Hannibal's eyes on his throat, cutting into his flesh like razor wire. That gaze, his predicament, and the bursting flavors on his tongue soon had him wriggling in his seat.

"You respond so well to hand feeding," Hannibal said, watching Will's hips squirm. "I'm considering binding you for every meal."

Will's neck flushed with fear. Never being allowed to feed himself again. Learning to associate food with a swollen, untouched cock. Swallowing prettily and on command. His body betrayed him, and he moaned around the fork in his mouth.

"Does that make my cunning boy wet?"

Will nodded, red in the face and desperate for stimulation.

Slowly, Hannibal stood from his chair and moved behind Will. He lifted Will's wine glass to the younger man's lips. "Drink."

Will did, and as the wine washed his palate, he felt fingers massaging the tender spot beneath his Adam's apple. He whined as he swallowed, vulnerable to that touch and craving more.

Hannibal kissed the nape of Will's neck. "Would you like me to touch you, Will? Legs spread wide for me, incredibly sensitive . . ." He rubbed one hand down Will's chest and rolled a nipple between thumb and forefinger.

Will panted open-mouthed, shaking.

"How many times today have I taken your cock in hand and promised that this time I would relieve your ache, only to leave you dripping and debauched?" A whimper filled the room as Hannibal tongued a flinching vein.

"Please, please . . ."

Hannibal set his hand over Will's throat and bit at the curve of his ear. "Will you writhe for me when I concentrate my touch on the bare head of your cock?"

Will could feel himself dripping onto the chair. He pulled uselessly at his restraints, the vibrations of his moans doubled against Hannibal's palm.

"How many days can you endure the frustration, the ceaseless tease of my fingers around your sex, at your slick opening? My handsome toy." He pressed cruelly against Will's throat, forcing his constant pant to taper off into hitched gasping.

Will closed his eyes and let the sensations consume him. He had no illusions about the coming hours, and the thought of what Hannibal Lecter would do to him kept him lingering on the edge.


	2. Chapter 2

Without warning, the sensitivity of a day on edge, coupled with Hannibal's words and expert stranglehold, spilled over the edge of pleasurable pain and became entirely pain.

"Theremin," Will choked.

Hannibal released Will's throat immediately. He knelt and unbuckled the leather restraints at Will's ankles, then stood and freed his wrists. Without skipping a beat, he took Will's hands and pulled him out of the chair and into his arms, careful not to bend his swollen cock at an odd angle.

As they stood together, holding each other, Will felt overcome with emotion. A moment ago he'd been in sensory overload, and now this tenderness seemed confusing and nearly unbearable. He knew this was their plan. He knew how much he adored Hannibal and their games and their love. He knew that a bit of breath play, bondage, and denial was hardly the worst he'd endured for their shared pleasure. But in his oxygen-starved brain, it was too much. He blushed with embarrassment and buried his face in Hannibal's neck as the sobs came, soft and wet, against his will.

Hannibal swallowed. The sound of his lover weeping felt akin to having his wrists flayed to the tendons. "Will," he began, gently, "You are safe. I own no part of you in this moment. But you have me, Will. Take a deep breath when you can. You have me."

Will tightened his hold on Hannibal and drew a shaky breath. His exhale was measuredly more controlled. 

"Again," Hannibal said, running his hand through Will's hair. "Breathe again."

Will thought he heard a familiar tone in Hannibal's voice; something both stable and wounded, echoed from a half-drowned memory of waves and cliffs. He took another breath and was grateful no part of the sea filled his lungs.

"Forgive me," Hannibal said, cradling the back of Will's head, "I pushed entirely too far. Are you hurt?"

"N-no," Will managed. "T-too much."

Understanding, Hannibal stepped away from his partner. "I will get you some water," he said, and he left for the kitchen.

When Hannibal returned, he found Will sitting on the floor of the dining room, curled into himself, holding his knees. He knelt quietly beside him and set the glass of water down before stripping off his blue suit jacket and placing it around Will's shoulders. He picked up the water again and held it to Will's lips.

Will took the glass in his own hand and gulped it down, tipping his head back to drain every drop. He set it beside him and wrapped the jacket more tightly around his body. "Thank you," he said.

"I should know how to gage what qualifies as excess stimulation," Hannibal said, frustrated with his own failure.

Will managed a weak smile. "You're an expert at exposing and tormenting my every nerve, and you enjoy when I beg you." He swallowed and pressed his legs more tightly together. "I was so close to begging."

Hannibal perked up a bit at that. "Do I detect a hint of disappointment in your voice?"

"Just a hint." Will smirked.

"Nonetheless, I was careless. Would you like more water, or perhaps wine, before bed?"

Will looked up at him. "What do you mean? I never said we were done here."

"I consider safe words dead ends in a sexual encounter," Hannibal said, frowning, "As soon as you expressed discomfort, I discarded any intention of continuing our game tonight."

The jacket smelled of wine and expensive cologne. "Safe words are red lights. Red lights turn green."

Hannibal licked his bottom lip in mild frustration. "This is a distinction we should have discussed."

"We're discussing it now." Will was adamant.

Sighing, Hannibal held his lover's gaze. "Hypersensitivity is too high a risk. I won't torture you, Will."

Will set his jaw, fully aware of the scars sewn into his naked body. "Won't you?" 

"We are playing by a set of rules in this moment, Will. I gave you my word to follow those rules to the letter, and I always keep my word." He set his hand on top of Will's, heavy and warm.

"What if it's what I want?" Will asked, sitting up straight. "You've taught me about torture, Hannibal. There's intimacy. Growth." Slowly, Will spread his legs for Hannibal's eyes. He was still obscenely hard. "The light can be green again."

Hannibal's mouth and nose twitched. "I'm going to hurt you," he said, fierce but somehow smaller than usual.

"Is that a promise?" Will asked, already hazy with lust.

"That's my fear."

Will didn't like the sound of that. "More inconveniences for loving the lamb?"

"Will."

"Do you want to touch me?" he asked, pushing his hips forward.

Hannibal stole a glance at his husband's cock. He looked devastatingly tender. "Of course." 

"Then touch me," Will said. "Taste me. You know how well I fit on your tongue. Do all the cruel things you promised me, Dr. Lecter." 

A hot flush rolled down Hannibal's chest. Will rarely used his title. "And if you can't bear it this time?"

Will crawled toward his lover and nuzzled between his legs. He pressed his cheek to Hannibal's stomach, just above the solid outline of his cock. "Then, as punishment for my insistence, deny me touch for the remainder of the week."

"No punishments for safewording, Will," Hannibal scolded. 

"Ah," Will said, lowering his mouth to breathe warmly over the straining buttons of Hannibal's trousers, "I should have remembered. Perhaps you should punish me now rather than later."

Hannibal carded his fingers through Will's curls. "Should I?"

"Only if it will hurt," Will said, nosing against smooth blue wool. 

Running his palm over the curve of Will's ass, Hannibal smiled. "That can be arranged. Tell me, what do you hope to gain with this tease? I have the composure to walk away now if I choose."

"There are drawbacks to subspace, Hannibal. I miss having the freedom to touch you."

That was not the answer Hannibal was expecting. He regarded his lover warmly. "Am I what your hands ache for when I bind you? I had thought it was your cock." He grinned temperately.

Will traced two fingers over Hannibal's inseam. "It is," he said, "But you're a close second."

Hannibal sighed. "You feel prepared for this?"

"I trust you," Will said.

"Then stand for me."

~

"Face the wall, please, Will."

They had moved to the bedroom, where the low lighting and soft carpet had already made Will feel more comfortable. 

Hannibal carried the restraints over to his partner. He took Will’s hands and bound them behind his back, where they lay at the base of his spine. “I’ve always admired your wrists,” he said, leaning close to Will’s ear, his clothed body pressed tightly to bare skin. “Slim and elegant. Not unlike the rest of you.” He kissed the goosebumps trailing the muscle of Will’s neck.

Will’s breath came soft and hitched from his open mouth.

“Already forgetting yourself?” Hannibal wrapped both arms around Will’s torso and stroked along the flinching plane of his chest. “Shall I touch?”

“ _Please._ ”

Hannibal curled his fist around his lover’s cock and earned a helpless sound. “Sensitive?” he asked.

Will nodded quietly, eyes closed, nose nearly touching the wall. He felt the pressure of a thumb swipe over his cock head and jerked his hips involuntarily.

“How sensitive?” Hannibal pressed, teasing Will’s head again. “If I were to polish you—” He poised his hand.

“N-no don’t don’t—” Will begged, breathless, aware of how hard it made Hannibal to hear him whimper in this way. Then the touch came, of Hannibal’s palm and the smooth edges of fingers against his aching tip, and he buckled and writhed.

Hannibal swallowed, too warm beneath his suit, and eased up on the pressure. “That’s it, Will,” he said, low and husky, “Be a good boy and drip for me.” He polished Will’s cock again, lingering for just an instant longer, savoring the desperate arching and broken gasps.

“ _Please._ ”

“What do you want, Will? You asked me to hurt you. Do you recant that request?”

He shook his head, trembling. “No.” 

“Even if that means you won’t have relief tonight?”

Will bowed his head against the wall, tender and pulsing in Hannibal’s hand. “I am yours to do with as you see fit.”

Hannibal massaged his thumb into the wetness of Will’s slit. “A dangerous bargain, submitting yourself to such violence.” 

“ _Yes_ ,” Will said, twisting in his restraints, pressing back against his lover’s solid body. “But violence is what I understand.”


	3. Chapter 3

The stimulation Will endured at Hannibal’s hands was intentionally wicked, designed to make him drip but keep him just shy of the edge, never close enough to even hope for release. He was never expected to hold himself off or announce in detail how near he was. Hannibal knew from his breathing, from his trembling, from his sweat-drenched, bobbing throat how brutally _near_ he was. He had tuned Will as precisely as his harpsichord, and he played him with merciless grace. For the music, naturally.

After more than an hour of this, Hannibal said, “I think its time for bed, don’t you?”

Will’s face fell, though he was grateful for a reprieve from the doctor’s hand. “Hannibal . . . I can’t . . . I won’t be able to control myself. I’ll pleasure myself on your sheets without conscious thought—”

“Oh,” Hannibal cooed, touching Will’s jaw, “You won’t be getting much friction in that area.” He left Will’s side and crossed the room, where he opened a dresser drawer and withdrew a small device, hollow and slim, with curved metal bars.

Will swallowed. “You want me caged, Hannibal?” he asked, bristling with arousal and fear. 

Hannibal returned to his husband and leaned in to kiss wetly along the soft underside of Will’s chin. “Always.” He took Will’s hand and curled his fingers around the shaft of the device. “Touch. Explore the design. Imagine how each curve might feel, constraining and intimate. Look at me, Will.”

The eye contact Will managed was the farthest thing from defiant. He stroked the metal bars that would soon cradle his cock, and his pupils blew under the strain of Hannibal’s gaze.

“This cage is customized to your measurements,” Hannibal explained, “When soft, you will find it fits very well.” 

His words had implications that made Will’s stomach drop. “And when I’m not soft?”

Hannibal smoothed his thumb along the tip of the device, brushing past Will’s tentative fingers. “A wanton slave must learn there is a time and place for his pleasure. Pain can be an excellent teacher.”

Will wet his lips with a nervous tongue. He ached so poignantly and so helplessly to feel the jaws of that cage close over his sex.

“Ask me to hurt you,” Hannibal said, fingering the edge of Will’s flushed ear. “Ask me to deny you.”

Pre-cum drizzled indecently from the slick head of his cock. “Hurt me,” Will said, holding his chin high but feeling small nonetheless. “ _Deny me._ ”

“You can beg more sweetly than that,” Hannibal said, divinely controlling.

“Please, deny my cock,” Will said, and his throat made a desperate clicking sound, “Make it hurt. Cage me, _please_ , I need to feel it—”

Hannibal’s eyes were terrifyingly calm; onyx pits of composed sadism. “Whose cock?”

Will’s entire body trembled, and the electricity of that discomfort reminded him how bare he was. “Yours,” he conceded, breathless, “Always yours.”

“Lie down on the bed, Will. You will feel my hands, and the metal. I would like you to be vocal about the pain when it comes. Do you understand?”

Nodding, Will lay down on the duvet. His cock bobbed and dripped against his taut stomach as he waited.

Hannibal unlatched the thick metal ring at the top of the cage and bent to grasp Will’s cock and balls. He handled them gently, touching more than necessary to watch his lover’s hips squirm and arch from the bed. Carefully, he locked the ring around the base of Will’s sex.

Will moaned, feeling himself squeezed tightly. He spread his legs farther apart without thinking, desperate for friction.

“Does my cunning boy ache?” Hannibal asked, slipping Will’s cockhead between two fingers and thumbing open his slit. Pre-cum coated his fingers anew. “A small tube at the end of the cage will penetrate your urethra to make relieving yourself a simple task. You might feel uncomfortable until you get used to the pressure.”

His cock pulsed lewdly in Hannibal’s hand as the cage was pushed onto his shaft. Will’s breathing was labored, debauched, and he swallowed weakly as the urethral tube was forced inside him. Then came the compression, his swollen sex straining against the bars when Hannibal locked the cage into the ring. He cried out, sensitive and trapped. The ache became painful and the cold metal offered a cruel and constant stimulation. “H-annibal . . .” he gasped, pulling at the leather restraints on his wrists.

Hannibal crawled slowly onto the duvet and lay on his side. Once settled, he reached out to caress his husband’s flinching throat. “You are lovely, Will, choking on this pain. Is it distractingly intimate, having your cock penetrated by the enclosure?”

Will let slip a broken, wheezing laugh. “All—of this is—” he shuddered involuntarily, “ _distractingly intimate_.”

“And you enjoy it?” His hand wandered down to warm Will’s nipples.

“ _Yes_.” Will wanted to say more. He wanted to praise the construction of this torment. He wanted to beg for worse. He wanted to press his mouth to the shadow of Hannibal’s collarbone and worship this man with his eager tongue. But ‘yes’ was all he could manage.

Hannibal’s eyes were fond. “I am more than a little starved for touch myself,” he admitted, grasping his thigh. The fabric of his trousers pulled taut over his erection. “You ruin me, Will. If you don’t mind, I’d like to remedy that.”

Will nodded fervently. “ _Please_.” He wriggled awkwardly until he managed to lean on the shoulder facing Hannibal, his cock weighed down to the bed by the cage. Heavy, exquisite torture.

Hannibal met Will’s eyes and began to palm himself, slowly, over his trousers. His fingers rubbed teasingly along his length, painting a clear outline. He groaned a bit as he unbuttoned with one hand, savoring that release and watching Will’s hungry eyes follow the curve under his boxer briefs. “Chastise me endlessly, Will, if I ever come to take your salivating over my cock for granted.” He peeled back the folds of his trousers and thumbed the wet spot at his head, grunting in pleasure.

“Okay,” Will said, hardly registering the request. He could cry at how handsomely his lover touched himself, and how he needed those hands on his own body.

“The soft pressure over cloth,” Hannibal began, breathing unevenly, “Increases tenderness. I’ve come like this many times before, stroking lightly, denying flesh-to-flesh contact.”

Will swallowed, his hips undulating subconsciously, dragging his caged and dripping cock along the duvet. The tease of luxury fabric between the metal bars only served to torture him. 

Hannibal straightened himself gently and pulled his briefs down just enough to rest beneath the ridge of his head, where his unsheathed foreskin gathered, slick and shiny. “Of course,” he said, “Sometimes I can’t resist.”

Will groaned. “ _Please feed me._ ”

There was a pause, and then Will’s eyes widened when he realized what he’d said. He decided not to fight the impulse. “Please. Let me taste. Let me _suck_.” His ass squirmed beneath his bound wrists. “Feed me your cock. Fill my mouth, doctor. _Please_.”

Hannibal stroked himself lewdly. “Is this what you want?” His slit was supple and wet, spilling onto his fingers.

“ _Please._ ”

Licking his bottom lip, Hannibal raised himself on the bed and inched his body nearer to Will’s face, still covered but for his swollen cockhead. “Open your mouth, Will. Just slightly. Part your lips for me.”

Will obeyed, inhaling the heady scent of his lover and trembling with need.

“Just the tip this time.” He took a careful breath as Will’s lips enclosed his flesh, his wet curls streaking Hannibal’s dress shirt with sweat. “That’s it, Will. Let me feel your tongue. Su—mmhm—suck . . . there. _God_ , I adore you.”

Will moaned, allowed at last to taste and pleasure his master. It served as the most debasing stimulation of the day: this pressure on his tongue, eliciting animal sounds.

Quickly losing his composure, Hannibal stole a long look at Will’s quivering cock: acutely thick and florid. He placed a hand firmly on the back of Will’s neck. “Soon, if not already, you’re going to wish you weren’t so beautiful like this. Denied. Depraved.” His mouth twitched indulgently. “ _Will_. _My Will_. _I’m going to keep you this way as long as I can_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to continue this for a while, because goddamn, it's a perfect excuse to explore so many of my kinks at once. I love Will this way just as much as Hannibal does xD
> 
> Thank you all so much for sticking around! Please, please leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter, especially if there was some line in particular that you liked ;) Much love and thank you for reading <3


	4. Chapter 4

Hannibal pressed lightly on the hem of his briefs, pushing them a few inches down the length of his cock. He felt Will’s hot mouth accept his newly exposed skin with fervor, lapping up his pre-cum and suckling like a starving man. He grunted at the attention. “Eager, are we? Imagining my tongue between the bars of your cage?”

Will whimpered, writhing and sucking Hannibal intently, craving the pleasure of a full mouth.

Hannibal felt unbearably tender from the vibrations of Will’s gorgeous keening. He touched Will’s head, lacing his fingers through wet curls. “I . . .” he swallowed, need coiling in his belly, “ _Will_.”

That name, spoken as if to an angel or a deity, felt so far away to Will Graham. That name wasn’t him, with his bound body sweating through the duvet and his throat flexing in reverent swallow. That name was Hannibal’s illusion of him in moments like this, unraveling to his animal core. He felt the word choke him; rip him open beneath his navel. Even after all this time, to be so loved by Hannibal Lecter was incomprehensible, painful, bloody.

Delicious.

Will took a heavy breath against Hannibal’s cock and licked gently at the slick head, cleaning him, nursing him through the aftershocks. “I could suck you for hours,” he mumbled.

“Mmhm, that’s a pleasant thought,” Hannibal said huskily, playing with Will’s hair and allowing each of his muscles to relax one by one. “A makeshift gag for your lovely mouth.” He tucked his fingers under Will’s chin and pressed his thumb past his slave’s lips, opening him. “Easier to hold your tongue when it’s tasting me, isn’t it?”

In answer, Will kissed his thumb.

“Gorgeous boy,” Hannibal said, his voice thick, “Are you ready for bed?”

Will squirmed uncomfortably. “My—your—cock hurts,” he whined.

“Does it?” Hannibal asked, “Do you feel vulnerable in that cage?”

The younger man nodded slowly.

“Does the metal grasp you in ways that only heighten sensitivity?”

“ _Yes_.”

Hannibal lifted Will’s chin tenderly. “Will you endure the pain tonight, for me? Will you sleep in my chastity and my arms?”

Will swallowed and closed his eyes, tipping his head to encourage the hand beneath his chin to stroke his scarred cheek. “ _Yes_.” 

Tucking himself back into his trousers, Hannibal stood and smoothed his suit jacket. “I’m going to free your hands now. They must be numb. Hold your arms above your heart to aid blood flow.” He moved to the opposite side of the bed and bent down to loosen Will’s restraints.

Immediately, Will repositioned his arms above his chest. He winced as his fingers filled with blood, tingling, then wracked with sharp pain.

Hannibal stroked the nape of his husband’s neck. “I’m sorry. I know the restraints are not ideal. Let me get you some water before bed. You must be exhausted.”

“Hannibal,” he said, “Bathroom.”

“Of course.” Hannibal leaned down and put his arm around Will’s waist to help him off the bed.

Will tried to put weight on his feet but stumbled, falling into Hannibal’s chest. He smelled sweat, wine, and meat, and he wished longingly that Hannibal wasn’t wearing so many layers of clothing. He felt so exposed there, clinging weakly to his master’s body, naked and displayed.

“You may find this trite, Will,” Hannibal said, “But I cannot—will not—let you fall.”

He did find it trite. He also found himself smiling. “It’s a bit late for that,” he said.

“Come with me.”

They walked quietly to the bathroom, listening to each other breathe. Will tried to ignore the heavy tug of metal between his legs and just focus on taking steps, on the flex of Hannibal’s shoulder, on his heart beating in his fingertips. When he stepped with bare feet onto the cold marble tile, he sighed. “How—how do I—” He gestured uncomfortably to himself and to the toilet, avoiding eye contact.

Hannibal’s eyes were suddenly splashed with uncharacteristic pity, as if by a dropper. “Stand. The ureth—” he stopped himself, “It should be comfortable. Sanitary. I’ll be undressing in our room if you—” Will’s expression warned him not to finish his sentence. “Come to bed, Will.” He kissed the top of his lover’s forehead and turned to leave, closing the door behind him.

When Will finished, he washed his hands at the sink, catching his own eyes in the clarity of the mirror’s spotless glass. He washed the sweat from his face and neck, careful not to irritate the tender scar that interrupted his scruff. The smile burning through his abdomen seemed dark and hollow against his skin. Maybe he could crawl inside it and forget about the parts of himself that didn’t breathe Hannibal’s air. Maybe, if he begged like a good little lamb of god, Hannibal would carve another smile into his throat. Maybe he wanted that, to bleed his darkness into the devil’s arms. Sacrificial. Adoring. Something that might count as an act of love. He could drown in peace there, and _Il_ _Mostro_ could eat his heart.

Will took a drink of water and closed his eyes to the reality of the mirror. They were playing a game, and a man was waiting for him to make his move. He opened the door to the bedroom and found Hannibal folding the duvet down to the end of their bed. He was wearing nothing but his black boxer briefs. “I never get tired of seeing you like this,” he said.

Hannibal straightened and glanced meaningfully at Will’s bound cock. “I could say the same.”

“I’m looking forward to being covered,” Will said, crawling into the bed. “Not much longer and I might have died of exposure.” He smiled.

Hannibal lifted the sheets and slipped in beside him. “Not with the way you cling to my chest at night.”

Will laughed. “That does very little, Doctor. You being cold-blooded and all.”

“Was I cold-blooded on your tongue, my lamb?” He pressed his thumb into Will’s mouth and gently pulled him nearer by his bottom teeth.

Will’s neck warmed. “Not fair,” he mumbled.

“Have you ever known me to be fair, Will?” Hannibal kissed the edge of his lips.

“No,” he said, “ _Nnngh!_ ” He felt Hannibal’s fingers curl around his caged cock, skin brushing skin through the bars, pressure twisting the base against his swollen balls. “I’m not sure you’re—capable of fairness,” he managed.

Hannibal’s mouth twitched into a half-smile. “Capable, yes. Willing?” He moved his hand strategically, eliciting a gasp. “No. Am I hurting you?”

Will’s Adam’s apple trembled. “Yes,” he groaned.

“How does the pain make you feel?”

“Owned,” Will said, leaning into the hand around his sex. “ _Good_.”

“Come here.”

Will moved closer until he could rest his head against Hannibal’s chest and connect their hips. He raised his knee to twine their legs together. His cock throbbed desperately against the unyielding metal and the soft pads of Hannibal’s fingers. “I need to cum,” he said, not expecting to get his wish but unable to keep from voicing it any longer.

“I know,” Hannibal said, not unkindly. “I’m very pleased with you, Will. I cannot promise when I will allow you release, but when it happens, I will make it worth your while. I will have you shuddering and ruined in my arms.”

Will closed his eyes and listened to Hannibal’s steady heart. “Thank you,” he said, aching but drained of energy. “I’ll wait.” 

Hannibal stroked his free hand through disheveled curls. “Goodnight, Will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed the healthy dose of feels! Next chapter will be steamy, promise :D Please, please leave a comment if you liked this part!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would call the first part of this a mistake on Hannibal's part. Sometimes serial cannibals make mistakes in consensual relationships with lovers whose lives they once destroyed. Fair warning for feels and bad BDSM etiquette.

Will woke up to a vicious ache. Unprepared, he flinched away from Hannibal and threw the covers off his body, reaching between his legs to tug at the cage. His fingers slipped on pre-cum and he scrabbled backward on the bed, out of the pool of wetness darkening their sheets.

Hannibal startled, opening his eyes and twisting uncomfortably against his pillow, groggy and confused.

“Take it off,” Will said, his tone fearful and sharp, “Take it off. I don’t want—I can’t—Hannibal, please, _please_ , take it off—”

“Shh, Will,” Hannibal cooed, drawing himself up in bed and pulling Will against his chest. “It will pass. Give yourself a moment to relax.”

Will shook in Hannibal’s arms, opening and closing his legs in avoidance of the pain. “No, no—”

“If I remove it, your blood will rush, and the tenderness will be tenfold. Short-lived, yes, but I don’t intend to begin the morning with your wounded screaming.” He held the back of Will’s neck. “Listen to me,” he said, lifting the human veil from his face, “I considered cutting Winston’s throat. Once, before either you or I were committed as criminally insane." 

Will’s entire body went cold and still.

“I was curious what would happen. Your face upon seeing ginger fur matted with blood. Your own stained knife an explanation for lost hours. That may have broken you.” Hannibal expected to feel nothing, but he was dismayed to find the veil still clinging to his chest where his skin met Will’s.

Will was disturbed, furious beyond words, until he realized that his cock had softened in the cage. He pulled back out of Hannibal’s arms and looked up at his husband with betrayed eyes. “That’s a cruel tactic, Dr. Lecter,” he said, distrustful and raw in his emotion.

“You were in pain.”

Will rubbed his face. “Yes, _physical pain_.”

Hannibal’s shoulders stiffened. “I told you a lie, Will.”

“Does it matter,” he asked, “If experience gives me reason to believe it’s true?”

The doctor’s chest rose and fell slowly. Too slowly. “I’ve done something unforgivable, haven’t I?”

“Just reminded me of a very long list of unforgivable acts.”

He swallowed. “Would you like me to release you now, Will?” 

“Oh, is now convenient for you?”

Hannibal stood from the bed and retrieved a small key from his dresser drawer. He held it out to his partner. “You can accuse me of many things, but not of ignoring your consent in this game.”

Will looked at the key, then back up into Hannibal’s face. “Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Am I forbidden from demanding something of you? You have me, bound in your bed, but you won’t grant me this?”

Hannibal rejoined his lover on the bed. “Take my wrist.” He offered his arm, and Will tentatively lay his hand over the thick scar there. Then he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Will’s, just grazing his lips.

Will felt Hannibal’s pulse quicken beneath his fingertips.

Pulling back, he bowed his head against the base of Will’s throat, hair falling over his forehead. “I would grant you anything.” He sighed. “I am not in control.”

“Neither am I,” Will said, too fond for comfort, warming once again to the devil.

“I dislike hurting you.” Hannibal nuzzled his nose against Will’s collarbone.

Will laughed, stroking Hannibal’s shoulders. “Maybe next time you want my dick soft, talk about trimming your grey nose hairs. I’ll remember I’m married to an old man and be down for the count.”

Hannibal smiled like a wolf into Will’s neck. “Am I old?” He wrapped his arms around Will’s back and ass and lifted him abruptly from the bed, pulling him close.

Will locked his legs around Hannibal’s torso. “Well, I wasn’t about to marry a _weak_ old cannibal, was I?”

“You know how to pick ‘em, Will.” 

Smiling at the way Hannibal’s accent faltered on the slang, Will kissed the top of his head. “Always.”

~

Hannibal gestured to the couch. He hadn’t bothered to dress, deciding that a suit was not appropriate for his plans. "Sit, please. Take a breath. I'm going to worship you, Will."

Will stayed rooted to the spot and looked up curiously. "You say that as if you're going to torture me."

"There is some overlap, yes."

"What do you mean?"

He skimmed his thumb over Will's throat. "When bruises bloom under my tongue and you are too tender to speak." His hands wandered down to Will's nipples. "When the movement of air is a sufficient tease." He touched the curve of Will's lip. "When your mouth hangs open in anticipation of mine."

"Will you tie me?" Will asked, breathing shallowly. He’d already begun to sweat. 

Hannibal stroked his ear. "You would like that, wouldn't you? Bound to my table, forced to feel me. Suffering the ache of an untouched cock."

Will swallowed thickly. "Yes."

"I can appreciate the artistry involved. However, that sort of bondage is too detached for our purposes today."

"Det _ach_ ed?" His jaw opened too wide on the _a_. A for anxiety.

"When you feel pain,” Hannibal said, stepping closer, “I don't want you recoiling from my touch. I want you near me, curled against me, begging into my neck. I want to feel you enduring my—"

" _Hannibal_.” His hands itched to reach out, to grasp, to play.

"This is the test of honest submission," Hannibal said, "Returning torture with tenderness. Brutality with benevolence. Your task is only manageable if I have earned your trust, Will. Only if, despite the ache, you feel worshipped by your master."

Will kept his eyes on Hannibal’s face. He stepped backward and slowly, very slowly, knelt. "I don't feel deserving of worship."

"Perhaps not by conventional standards of morality. My bias should be freeing in that regard." Despite his best efforts, Hannibal felt blood rush to his cock at the sight of Will on his knees.

"I am undeserving of worship by anyone. If you kiss bruises onto my neck, I will feel bruised. That is your design, Hannibal." 

Hannibal relaxed the tension in his shoulders and sat on the floor in front of Will, knees bent and spread wide. “Look at me. Your mind and body are nothing less than art, Will. Let me show you what I see, what I crave.”

Will hesitated. “If I don’t see it when you’re finished?”

“I will make it plain.” 

He stared for a long moment. Then he sighed and allowed himself a partial smile. “By all means, Doctor. The altar is yours.”

~

Will reclined against the arm of the couch, entirely bare but for his cage. “Please, come here,” he said, “I need to touch you.”

Hannibal smiled, setting two bottles of water and a tube of lip balm down on the glass coffee table. “Have you forgotten your manners, Will?”

“ _Please_ ,” Will said cheekily, “May I touch you?”

“You may.” He pressed his hand to Will’s chest and stroked upward, drawing goosebumps beneath his fingers.

Will covered Hannibal’s hand with his own and laced their fingers together. The weight of both of their hands pressed him back into the cushion when he tried to sit up.

“Be still,” Hannibal said, straddling his lover and sinking low. He raised Will’s chin with one knuckle and bent to kiss the muscle of his neck. He sucked, open-mouthed and hungry, until the warm flesh became tender. Unyielding, he lowered his attentions a fraction and continued, licking and biting, letting bruises flower under his tongue.

Will’s hands toyed with thick silver-blonde hair as one by one his capillaries burst and bled. He winced and moaned at the sensation, the fervent laving. “Christ, Hannibal—that’s—don’t stop—”

Hannibal had no intentions of stopping. He didn’t stop when the bruises became landmarks, sloping over flushed and flinching skin. He didn’t stop when Will whimpered and pressed his caged cock into Hannibal’s stomach. He didn’t stop when the begging intercepted the panting, filling the room with _please_ and _no don’t don’t_ and incomprehensible, animal sounds. The hour ticked away, and Hannibal only paused to wet his lips.

Will could feel the tears leaking out of his eyes at the tenderness. His throat felt wounded as Hannibal continued to suck the spilling edges of each bruise. He’d never been so bare. It hurt. It left him writhing. But there was something else, something debauched about the hot breath and tongue and teeth leaving him to soak in raw, divisive pain. Hannibal’s lips were gentle and sure in their objective. Will didn't want it to end. He was raising his chin to encourage the ache. He was coming undone under his lover’s weight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My meds are doing weird things to my libido, so I'm super sorry if this came across less than sexy. *hides* Please leave a comment if you're liking things so far!! <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my attempt to resolve some shit. It's almost as fucked up as the show. Enjoy xoxo

Will’s throat displayed the clotting and fraying of a hundred droplets of ink, diluted by his skin into purples and blues and reds. His Adam’s apple quivered under the swelling bouquet, uncomfortable resting anywhere.

Hannibal pulled back to look at his work of art. “Lovely. Now, sit up for me, Will.” He put his hand behind Will’s back to help him up.

Will moaned as he was forced to move his neck. He curled against Hannibal’s chest, shielding his newly-bruised skin from the circulation of air in the room.

“Sensitive?” He stroked along the plane of Will’s chest. “What else is sensitive?”

Warm fingers began to toy lightly with his nipple, bringing out the bud. He felt a chill and nestled closer against Hannibal’s body.

“You feel my hands on your body, finding your nerves, the way I edged your cock. How long can I continue this slow tease before you beg me to let you come?”

He opened his legs wider to accommodate the twinge of need, pressing himself against Hannibal’s leg. His nipples were hardening and desperate for attention.

Hannibal’s mouthed along the edge of Will’s cheek scar. “You drip so easily for so little stimulation. I could milk you for pre-cum alone. Constant touch. No release.”

Will swallowed and groaned at the sharp ache in his throat. Hannibal’s erection pressed lewdly into his hip.

“When you wake tomorrow and feel flayed, Will, breathe. You are bruised by my love.” 

“That’s nothing new,” Will mumbled. He closed his eyes and gave in to the sensations dragging his body into lust.

Hannibal continued to touch and tease. “You should see the bruises you’ve left on me.”

“Why do you want me raw?” he asked, leaning his head against Hannibal’s chest.

“If your body matches your mind,” Hannibal said, worrying his other nipple, “You might feel free. Whole.” 

Will’s hips moved unconsciously in a slow rhythm. “Or I might feel honest,” he said. 

“Your body is being honest about what it wants. Is your mind as forthcoming?”

“My mind wants your mouth between my legs.”

"Kiss me." Hannibal lifted Will's chin.

Will winced. "Hannibal."

"Your throat is enormously tender, I know. You want to hide from this. Passively endure until the end. That sort of behavior is unspeakably rude to me. My slave will offer me his mouth and match my kiss. Is that clear?"

The wounded defiance in Will's eyes broke away and dissolved. "Yes," he said, and he parted his lips. 

Hannibal waited a moment, savoring the view of Will's soft mouth open at his command. Then he bent his head and met his lover halfway. Will's lips were smooth and supple against his, sliding easily, closing in rapture, and parting again for a breathless tug of teeth.

Hannibal rarely kissed Will like this anymore: a dangerous, devastating kiss. Something that might accompany him in death, if death was what followed. The sort of kiss that Hannibal had had no shortage of in the beginning, when Will's touch was new and tentative and bloody at all angles. Kisses that left both of them ruined, lost without the other but unable to stand the intensity. Like dying. Like rebirth. Like being turned inside out. That was the kiss that Will felt begin to consume him, sending a flush down the darkened plane of his neck. He returned it feverishly, licking into Hannibal's warm mouth, afraid to breathe. His chest was sensitive with the continued torment. His cock strained desperately against the cage. His hands wandered, taking liberties hardly ever afforded to him, groping the heat between Hannibal's thighs, stroking the scarred muscles of his back, making Hannibal feel just as undone as himself.

The kiss went on until both men couldn't take the pressure in their chests any longer. They pulled back just enough to break the seal of their lips and let themselves breathe, heavy and helpless.

"Again," Will panted, unable to open his eyes, "Please. I need you, Hannibal." 

Hannibal's eyes were wet. He didn't want Will to know. "Does it hurt, my lamb?"

"Please, _please_." He pressed both hands into Hannibal's chest.

"I can't indulge you tonight, Will," Hannibal said. "You were correct. I want you raw."

Will swallowed back a sob. "Don't, don't, please–take me, I need—"

Hannibal stopped him with a thumb against his lips, pressing past his teeth. "Suck. Do your nipples ache, Will?"

He nodded demurely, sucking on Hannibal's finger.

"Does it make you drip, knowing that I own you?"

Will moaned and bucked his hips.

Hannibal's eyes followed every curve of Will's body. "I can't let you come.”

" _Please_."

“Lie down, Will. Tell me where you would like your body to match your neck.” He leaned forward, pulling Will with him to the cushions. Dark curls splayed out in a desolate halo. “Unholy thing,” he mouthed against Will’s temple, barely making a sound.

“My hips,” Will answered, “Please.”

Obediently, Hannibal moved down his husband’s body and settled between his thighs. He kissed low and deep at the dip near Will’s groin, feeling the heat warm his cheek. The skin pulled easily there, into his mouth, along his tongue. He painted the bruises imprecisely over the bone on one side, then the other, so close to the slick metal cage that smelled of desire and need and _Will_. Hannibal’s fingertips dug into the meat of Will’s thigh, spreading him wide, eager to glimpse his flushed hole.

Will’s head tipped back, uncaring of the soreness, focused entirely on Hannibal’s touch and tongue.

“When was the last time I ravaged you?” Hannibal asked, biting recklessly at Will’s hip, mouth and nose twitching fiercely.

“Too long.”

He licked his bottom lip. “My cock is slippery with want of you. _Turn over_.”

Excitement filled Will’s chest. He moved onto his stomach and tried to raise his ass for better access—

“No, my cunning boy,” Hannibal said, forcing the base of Will’s spine back down to the couch. “You assumed I was going to fuck you? Do you think so little of your master’s self-control?”

“No—”

“I said I was going to mark you. We aren’t finished.” He stroked his hand over the bare expanse of Will’s back.

Will’s cock pulsed desperately beneath him. “ _Hannibal_.”

“Close your eyes.”

~

“I would like you look at your body, Will. Tell me what you see.”

Glancing back at his partner, Will took a few tentative steps to stand in front of the full-length mirror. He turned his head slowly, watching his own eyes find the center of the glass. Then something inside him shattered.

His skin, from the edge of his mouth to the tops of his feet, was dark with purpled bruises. They sloped over his chest and shoulders, cradling his neck and hips, spilling down his wrists and hands, tainting him. He couldn’t blink. He stared for a long moment, then spoke, “Why did I let you—why did you—” He swallowed, tears welling up. “Why—” He rubbed his face and tried to blink the wetness away, but it spilled down his cheek, breaking off at his scar. “Hannibal.”

“Do you feel an ache, Will, having been defiled by my mouth?” He stepped forward, nearly naked but composed nonetheless.

Will looked up at him with wide, sad eyes.

“It’s what you feel, isn’t it? I cannibalized your life. Your heart.” His expression was cold. A mask.

Will’s Adam’s apple flinched. “Not yet,” he managed.

“And now,” Hannibal continued, “My betrayal has settled in your skin. Look again.”

He shook his head, but Hannibal caught his shoulder and turned him back toward the mirror.

“I promised I would worship you. Do you feel worshiped?”

Will wiped tears and snot from his face, defiant of the pain, streaking his bruised mouth. “ _Fuck you_.”

Hannibal pressed two fingers gingerly into the muscle of Will’s throat. “What do you feel, Will?”

“Get off—”

“What do you feel?”

“ _You!_ I feel—”

Hannibal pressed further and steadied his lover through the wince. “Will.”

Will closed his eyes, feeling at once the thick, smooth weight of long dark hair and a terrible calm that did not belong to him. His mouth searched for the words and allowed them to scorch his tongue. “Bev-Beverly. Beverly K-Katz.”

Moving his hand to Will’s abdomen, Hannibal pressed into the bruises decorating his smile. “What do you feel?”

Blinking, Will tried to breathe. “Stop.”

“Tell me what you feel.”

His eyes shut tightly. “ _Abigail_ ,” he choked.

“Who killed them?”

“ _Christ_ , Hannibal—”

“I killed them. I did. I killed Beverly Katz. I killed Abigail Hobbs.”

Will’s face screwed up into a half-sneer, half-sob. “ _Why did I let_ —”

“You did not let me kill them. Those decisions were mine. I would take them back, if I could. _Will_. _I’m sorry._ ”

His beard streamed with tears. “I let myself love you.”

Hannibal bowed his head. “Yes.”

Will turned abruptly. He took a fistful of Hannibal’s hair and forced their mouths together. He wanted to take. He wanted to feel whole again.

Surprised, Hannibal allowed the kiss for a moment. Then he pulled back, breathing heavily. “There’s something I need to do first.” He dropped his eyes to Will’s cage. “We should begin this on equal footing.”


	7. Chapter 7

Hannibal knelt, key in hand, before his husband.

“I’m not sure if we’re playing a game anymore, Hannibal,” Will said, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks wet.

He kissed Will’s thigh softly. “You said once, “So much of this feels like a dream.” Has the dream become a nightmare?”

Will rubbed his chin. “The nightmare is where you live. I chose to follow you.”

Hannibal swallowed. “Not entirely.”

“No,” Will agreed, too exhausted to feel the full devastation behind that truth. “Not entirely.”

The only logical answer seemed to be the granting of freedom. “May I?” Hannibal asked, gesturing to Will’s cage.

Will nodded. He sucked in a breath when Hannibal’s deft fingers touched him. The latches came undone, and the metal slipped easily out of place.

Hannibal was quiet for a moment, holding the device gingerly, as if it were a piece of Will. Then he leaned forward and trailed his mouth along the soft curve of Will’s cock. 

Will put a hand on his cheek to pull him back. “I think you’ve bruised enough of me today.”

Closing his eyes, Hannibal nosed gently at Will’s naked flesh. “I don’t intend to bruise.”

Against all logic, his heart beat faster. “What do you intend to do?”

“Everything my cunning boy deserves.” He breathed wetly against Will, feeling the heat swell under his lips.

Will swallowed. “I won’t beg you.”

“You will, but I won’t keep you waiting for long.” 

“Hannibal, please . . .”

His eyes were downcast and careful. “Begging already, my lamb?”

Will felt so tender. Warm and heavy. “For once, Hannibal,” he said, “Be good enough.” 

Hannibal understood. No more pain. No more taking. “Tell me what you want.”

“Open your mouth.” Will stroked his thumb over the edge of Hannibal’s cheek.

Hannibal obeyed, lips parting and tongue waiting to taste.

“Mmm. Wider.”

Swallowing, Hannibal opened his jaw.

Will pressed forward, slipping into the wet heat. He was immediately the object of attention, swirled and suckled by his master’s impatient mouth. Where the bars of his chastity cage had been restraining and rigid, Hannibal was supple and extracting, drawn to him, drawing him in. Will’s breaths shortened and became gasps, the slit of his aching cock dripping down Hannibal’s throat despite the pressure of an eager tongue licking him clean. His balls felt so tight, heavy and tender as Hannibal’s surgeon fingers fondled the seam.

Hannibal took Will to the base, reddened lips wetting his length. He liked the tremble that consumed his lover when Will’s swollen head pressed down his contracting throat. He liked the slack tilt of Will’s chin and the guttural moan in response to his own choked swallow. He liked his mouth this full.

“I’d fuck your mouth,” Will moaned, “But I know you’d enjoy it.”

Hannibal swallowed, the fabric over his cock wet and stretching.

“You think I don’t see what you are. Look at you, on your knees, _ahh_ —” he closed his eyes, holding back, “—on your knees. Servicing your slave. Su— _fuck_ , Hannibal— _sucking me_ _down_.”

He grasped himself, pulling at his balls, uncaring of the sounds that escaped him.

“You want my cock, _Dr. Lecter_?” Will asked, overwhelmingly close.

Afraid he would bite at the last instant, Hannibal jerked backward, hands digging into the carpet, cock spurting untouched in his boxers. He gasped desperately, but couldn’t leave his lover waiting for long.

Will tipped head back as the warmth engulfed him once again. He had no restraint left and unraveled almost immediately, breathless and sweating through his bruises. Gripping Hannibal’s hair but still not confident in his ability to stand, Will rode the aftershocks until even the heat of it all was too much stimulation to bear.

Hannibal wiped his mouth with his thumb and stood, pressing gently into Will’s back and chest, steadying him. With a quick shift of weight, he lifted Will into his arms bridal-style and held him close.

Will winced as bruises were crushed between two sets of muscle. He looked up at his husband, confused.

“I carried you once,” Hannibal said. He seemed to want to say more.

~

The spray of the shower was kind to Will’s flowering skin, cleaning the sweat from his pores and the the ache from his limbs. He was warm there, under the anesthetic rain, chest to chest.

They stayed in the water for a long time, thick droplets spilling from the tips of their noses and down the parallel curves of their necks. Their hands moved, exploring each other, as if they had never touched before. The light coming through the steam-sheltered glass was soft, but Will wished it wasn’t there at all. Better to find each other in the dark, where their faces were most honest, where he couldn’t see the whites of Hannibal’s eyes.

Hannibal watched the hapless movement of water over the marks he’d taken so much care to create. He traced the dripping lashes on Will’s face, the eyelids drowsy under the water’s impetuous love. Will Graham’s once-wounded cheek molded so easily to the pressure of his thumb, dipping in, taking on the shape of his bone.

~ 

They curled together in bed beneath the sheets, naked, understanding that they wouldn’t make it through the night without shedding any clothes they attempted to wear. Hannibal couldn’t keep his hands off Will’s ass, pulling him closer, spreading him to tease.

Will squirmed, cock hardening against Hannibal’s, and carded his hands through his husband’s hair. “Impatient?" 

Hannibal’s mouth formed a feral snarl of pleasure against Will’s ear. “Even my restraint has limits,” he whispered.

“Your limits seem to begin and end with me.” Will dipped his nose into Hannibal’s collarbone, pressing through the wall of his heartbeat.

Hannibal swallowed. “At the very least, my limits fall in line with your blood and breath.”

Will laughed quietly into Hannibal’s neck. “Give or take a few gallons and minutes.”

His fingers stroked up along the curve of Will’s spine, drawing goosebumps. “Mostly take.”

Will kissed the smooth flesh underneath Hannibal’s Adam’s apple. “You take my breath away, is that it?”

“I’d say it’s more a shared loss between us.”

Will’s hands moved down Hannibal’s hips. “Where does our breath go when it leaves us?”

He rested his chin on Will’s crown of curls. “In another life, it would go to Abigail.”

Will’s heart missed a significant number of beats, each clipping time with their absence. “And in this life?” 

“Our lives are not our own, Will. We learn to live without breath.” He closed his eyes to the dark and let his hands wander.


	8. Chapter 8

“Hannibal,” Will whispered, close enough to smell his husband’s aftershave.

“Yes?”

“I’m fucking _starving_.”

Hannibal turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling, then down at Will’s face, then at his own stomach, which began to make low rumbling sounds. “We didn’t eat today, did we.”

Will laughed and shook his head, leaning on his elbow. “Not a damn thing.”

Hannibal threw the covers back. “I am a disaster of a dominant. Come.”

They went downstairs to the kitchen and flipped on the lights. Will made a beeline for the fridge and extracted butter and a stack of individual Kraft cheese slices.

“What are you holding?” Hannibal asked.

Will set the slices on the counter. “Cheese.”

“That isn’t cheese, Will.”

“Then why does it say ‘cheese’ right on the package?” He opened the pantry and grabbed a loaf of Sara Lee bread. “And look! Bread!”

Hannibal blinked. “Have you learned nothing from me about food?”

Will pulled a skillet out of a cabinet and a knife from a drawer, entirely too hungry to put up with Hannibal’s whining. “Besides what spices taste the best on limbs? Not much.”

“You can’t actually be serious.”

He stopped and looked up. “I’m making myself a grilled cheese, because it is—” he glanced at the clock, “—10:15 PM, and the last thing I ate was your come. Yesterday. And as delicious and protein-heavy as that was, if you don’t mind, I’m going to enjoy my processed cheese so I have enough energy for when you fuck me over the counter and edge me until the floor is slick. Any questions?”

Hannibal stared for a moment. “Would you make me one?”

~

They sat atop the kitchen counter together, naked in the low lighting, devouring a pile of grilled cheese and sliced tomatoes from a plate between them.

Hannibal wiped a crumb from Will’s lip, pressing just hard enough to open his mouth. “There’s something tender about you,” he mused.

“Probably the bruises,” Will teased, shifting uncomfortably on his well-marked ass.

“They make you a mosaic.”

Will took a bite of his third sandwich. “More a patchwork poem.”

“Is that not a mosaic?”

He laughed. “Only we could have this conversation while eating grilled cheese in the middle of the night.”

Hannibal cleaned his thumb in his mouth. “These were more palatable than I expected, though next time, I suggest we use fresh ingredients.”

Will arched his eyebrows cheekily and stared at the plate, “Artisan cheeses, bakery bread—”

“Yes. Still acceptable for a midnight snack.”

He smiled. “I’ll eat just about anything with you naked beside me.”

“How do you think you managed to convince me to eat these?” Hannibal asked. “I can never say no to you when so much of your skin is bare to me.” 

Blushing down his chest, Will slid off the counter and brought their dishes to the sink. As he put the knife under the stream of water, he felt Hannibal’s fingers on his own. The older man’s body pressed hotly into his back, heady and taut.

“I never get enough of watching you wield a knife.” His voice was low in Will’s ear. He traced the wet handle, brushing fingers.

“Use the blade on me,” Will begged, breathing shallowly.

Hannibal’s mouth twitched. He stroked his fingers over Will’s neck. “Where? Against your bare and bruised throat, spilling ink? Or perhaps, under the ridge of your cock?”

Will’s hips flinched, grinding back into Hannibal’s lap.

Hannibal bit Will’s ear and pulled, eliciting a groan. “Spread your legs.” When Will didn’t move fast enough, he set his knee between his lover’s thighs and forced them apart. “I said, _spread your legs, my defiant little lamb_.”

Will moaned, already hard against the wooden cabinets under the sink. He arched his spine.

Stroking his hand lewdly over the curve of Will’s ass, Hannibal smiled. “Eager, Will? Would you like me to fuck you?”

“ _Please_.” Will could feel the pre-cum leaking from his slit.

He pried the knife from Will’s fingers. “Throat or cock?”

“ _Oh god, Hannibal_ —”

“You know I dislike repeating myself. Is my cunning boy wet, imagining the vulnerability of a blade so near your aching flesh?” He reached between Will’s legs to grope him, pressing a thumb over his tip. His fingers came away dripping. “ _tsk._ Naughty. Already making a mess. Suck.”

Will cleaned Hannibal’s fingers, tasting himself, rutting desperately against the counter. 

“I’d like an answer,” Hannibal said.

“ _Th-throat_ ,” Will managed. He was afraid he’d come with the knife against his cock, and he’d never live that shit down.

Hannibal took a handful of Will’s curls and gentle pulled his head back. He set the knife, droplets still streaming down the blade, to his lover’s jugular. “Swallow for me, Will.”

He obeyed, trembling, and he felt his Adam’s apple nick the edge. Just that—the intimate release of so little pressure, the drip of blood turning a bruise inside out, Hannibal’s breath when it cut—was enough. He came, thick and hot, gasping as the knife dug deeper.

Hannibal dropped the knife into the sink immediately and covered Will’s wound with his hand. He held pressure as Will jerked against him, then reached down to grip his cock.

Will flinched away from the touch, whining in pain when it didn’t let up.

“Did I give you permission to come, Will?” Hannibal asked, his voice coolly measured. He twisted his hand, and Will yelped.

“ _No, no—don’t—_ ”

“Answer me.” He pulled his thumb and forefinger over the slick bulb of Will’s head.

“ _Please! I couldn’t—couldn’t—_ ”

Hannibal licked his bottom lip, displeased. “You couldn’t stop yourself?”

Will nodded quickly, squirming under his master’s hand.

“And now, you’re very sensitive. Yes?” He rubbed Will’s slit.

“ _Nnngh! Yes!_ ”

Hannibal’s heartbeat had slowed considerably. “What happens to disobedient slaves who come without permission, Will?”

“ _Don’t—_ ”

“Tell me. This will not get any easier for you, my lamb.”

Will braced himself on the counter with both hands and stared helplessly at his swollen sex in Hannibal’s fist. “ _Dis-disobedient slaves ha-have their cocks polished_. _Oh god, Hannibal, please—_ ”

Hannibal slid his hand up until he could close his palm around Will’s twitching tip. He pressed a kiss to Will’s temple, feeling a frantic heartbeat against his lips and both hands. “Be a good boy and scream for me.”

~

Will sat quivering against a stack of pillows, the proof of his two consecutive orgasms cooling on his stomach as he watched Hannibal dig in a drawer for their Hitachi.

After plugging in the extension cord, Hannibal joined Will on the bed and straddled his hips from behind, chest against Will’s back. He licked his thumb and stroked Will’s nipple, earning a debauched little gasp. “I promised I would atone for your denial,” he said, flipping on the vibrator. A familiar buzz filled the silence. “Would you like this on your cock, Will?”

Will nodded, already dripping again. “ _Please_.”

Hannibal took Will’s length in his hand and angled the head of the wand directly against his frenulum.

Will nearly jumped off the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty evil leaving you all with that cliff hanger xD Hope you enjoyed the helping of domestic bliss to go with your main course of smut! Please comment if you liked this chapter! Thanks so much for reading this far<3


	9. Chapter 9

Hannibal gripped Will’s hair and held him down as he stroked the vibrator over his cock. His poor lover moaned and writhed, so sensitive, afraid of the pleasure roiling in his belly for the third time.

“ _God_ , Hannibal, _please!_ ” 

He combed gently, steadily, through Will’s curls with his long fingers. “You will come for me, my lamb. Until there is nothing left. Until your only focus is your slick and swollen sex. Until I have to tie you to keep your thighs open and your hands away. I will feed you as I touch you, bound and cringing. You will forget how to ask politely, how to beg, how to scream. Now, tell me,” he swirled the wand over Will’s twitching head, and his partner buckled against him, “Oh, I know it hurts, Will. I know. But tell me, who owns this cock?”

“Hhhh—hhhhnnn—”

“Tell me.”

“ _Nnhhgghh—you do_.” 

“ _Good boy_.”

“ _Nnghhh_ — _ah fuck fuck—_ ”

Hannibal’s praise was enough, and he came again, turning his head to whimper and gasp against his husband’s neck. It felt beyond his control, ripped from his body, and he couldn’t bear to think about the torture Hannibal had promised. He felt alone in his skin, even while he mouthed along the curve of Hannibal’s throat. This was the submission he’d been told about; returning pain with tenderness. He hated it even as he partook, opening his legs further and kissing softly at his lover’s pulse.

The Ripper allowed the lazy worship of this neck, unwilling to deny himself the press of Will’s wet mouth. “Careless boy,” he growled, “Teasing your master. What’s to be done about that?”

Will didn’t want to know the answer. He groped at the sheets until he found Hannibal’s wrist, and he pressed his thumb into the long scar. “N-no,” he said, “ _Please_.”

Hannibal caught the desperation in his tone. “Will, what is your record for cumming without reprieve?”

He swallowed. “Three.”

“How many times have you managed three?”

“Twice.”

“Don’t you think it’s time you beat that record?”

He moaned. “ _Hannibal_." 

“I’m teasing, of course. I am, in fact, quite impressed that you made it to three after your prolonged denial. You must be terribly raw.” He stroked one finger up the shaft of Will’s flushed cock.

Will hissed through his teeth.

“It’s late. Let me clean you up a bit before bed.” He left for the bathroom.

Will waited uncomfortably until he returned.

Hannibal sat beside him and held out a towel. A drip of water ran down his wrist. “This will hurt, but I will be gentle.”

When the warm, wet cloth encircled his cock, Will gasped, flinching away from the touch. “No, god, no, _please_ —”

“Be still, tell me what you feel.” He moved his hand deftly, smoothing the cloth over swollen flesh.

Will whined, “ _Ahhhh_ —hurts— _nnghh!_ ” The pressure of a thumb and fabric cleaning his head made him writhe.

“Your cock is so open for me,” Hannibal purred, “Tender and wet and begging to be filled.”

A shiver of pleasure violated Will’s groin. “ _Ahh_ ,” he curled protectively over his sex, “Your hand—”

“I could slip anything into your dripping slit,” he said, drawing his cloth back and forth along the veins, “A syringe, maybe. Inject you and plug the hole. Perhaps something that burns? Would you like that, my pet? Would you like your cock held open for my needle?”

Will squirmed, so sensitive and yet so receptive to Hannibal’s words. He panted, thrusting involuntarily into the slick heat of the cloth. “ _God, Hannibal, please—_ ”

“Please what, my lamb?" 

He could feel his cock twitch with need. “D-Dr. Lecter—I’m—I’ve—”

“Is my vulgar boy still wet despite my cleaning?”

Whimpering, Will nodded.

He clucked his tongue, stroking the cloth gently up and down Will’s length. “What’s to be done about that?”

“M-my cock needs to be punished—”

Hannibal smiled. “With the needle?”

“Ngghh— _yes—_ ”

The older man took Will’s hand and placed it around his cock, holding the cloth in place. “Stroke. Do not let me catch you stopping.”

Will swallowed and nodded again. He squeezed himself gently and began to pump, slow and easy, giving in to the pain.

Hannibal left him and went to their medicine cabinet, where he found a sterile syringe and a bottle of pleasure-intensity lubricant. He uncapped the lube and filled the syringe to the 5 ml mark, then he returned to the bedroom.

Will’s eyes were closed as he palmed himself, imagining his master’s mouth taking him to the hilt. He only looked up when he felt the pressure of Hannibal climbing onto the bed.

“There’s my handsome slave. Show me your bare cock, Will.” 

Tentatively, Will pulled the cloth away and set it aside. His sex was brutally engorged and cherry red.

“Lovely thing,” Hannibal said. “Now, for your punishment.” He gripped Will roughly, enjoying the younger man’s moan. He thumbed open the slit, coating Will’s raw head in pre-cum. Then he readied the needle. “Beg.”

Will trembled, watching the metal point sink into his hole. Pain had become his indelicate lover. “ _Please, Dr. Lecter. Hurt me._ ”

Hannibal pushed the plunger.

The lube coated Will’s urethra, and he immediately began to feel the sticky, slow-burn pleasure. “It’s— _ah!_ —it’s too much—”

“What is it, my lamb?”

“My cock, _please_ , too much—”

Hannibal’s pinky finger teased at Will’s head. “Lie back. I want to see your bruised body.”

Will obeyed, lowering himself to the bed. His ass squirmed against the sheets. “ _Hannibal_ ,” he moaned, “It’s so _warm_ in my cock—please, _please_ —” 

Hannibal leaned close over Will’s body and kissed the sweat from his lips. “Shh, it’s alright. Tell me what you need. Anything you need, Will. _My Will._ ” He mouthed at his husband’s temple.

Will’s back arched as the heat in his cock worsened. “ _Nngggh, fuck me, please, fuck me—_ ”

Wolf teeth bared, Hannibal turned Will onto his stomach and groped his ass, spreading him wide. “Gorgeous boy,” he said, so low it was almost a growl. He grabbed the bottle of lube from the bedside table and coated his fingers generously.

Will’s helpless cock twitched against his stomach as Hannibal opened his hole, slipping one finger in, then two. He yelped at the intrusion of the third.

“Are you ready, my lamb?”

The younger man ached so acutely to be filled, to be taken and debased. “ _God, Hannibal, fuck me, I need—need _—__ ”

Hannibal freed his own cock from his boxer briefs and slicked himself quickly. He lined up against Will’s hole and pressed forward, feeling at last his lover’s muscles tighten around his sex. He groaned, stroking the bruised plane of Will’s back and rutting crudely inside him.

Will gripped the sheets, feeling the silk polish his swollen cock with each powerful thrust. He filled the room with decadent sounds, each torn breathless and broken from his throat.

Hannibal held Will’s hips and increased his pace, his head tipped back in pleasure. “ _My Will_ . . .”

At the sound of his name, Will came hard for the fourth time, draining his sore balls and releasing a debauched sob.

Withdrawing from his oversensitive lover, Hannibal took himself in hand and finished over Will’s limp form. He sighed thickly, milking himself through the aftershocks. Then he crawled onto the bed and lay beside Will Graham, nuzzling his shoulder. “Sleep well, my love,” he mumbled, English words tripping lazily over his accent. “How lucky am I to sleep next to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed the porn xD Thank you so much for reading this far!


	10. Chapter 10

Will woke to the warmth of sunlight on his back and Hannibal’s soft breath against his shoulder. His skin felt sticky, and his cock ached tenderly beneath him; the sort of ache he could spend hours teasing until finally allowing himself release. In his dreamy haze, he reached between his thighs to grip himself. The steady, familiar pressure of his hand was a welcome change from Hannibal’s control. He swallowed and squeezed, wickedly gentle, unwilling to waste this pleasure on easy relief. 

Hannibal turned his cheek sleepily against the sheets, woken by the musky scent of Will’s lust. He didn’t bother to open his eyes and instead contented himself with listening to the slick pull of skin on skin and the slide of skin on silk. Will’s breath, too, was its own subtle orchestra, filling the air with a patternless give and take. He listened, growing tender against the seam of his shorts, ignoring the urge to rock his hips into the mattress.

Fingers tight on his sex, Will stroked. Were this a private little game, he would whine for the sake of fantasy, imagining cruel instruments and careful hands forcing those sounds from his throat. Of course, this was not private, and the trill of fear alight on his skin—that Hannibal would wake and deny him release—kept him silent. Still, he could feel himself straining, supple and swollen, and he swallowed when he allowed himself a brush of his thumb over his leaking head. Hannibal would lock him away for a week just for that touch alone. How dare his intractable slave edge himself without permission, without even his master’s knowledge. Will could almost hear the calm, disappointed _tsk_ of Hannibal’s tongue; the sound that made him ache, the sound that could make him beg for torture.

Hannibal took measured breaths in through his nose and relaxed his muscles, careful not to arouse suspicion of his awareness. He let Will play, amused by the disobedience and curious to see how long his twitchy, indelicate partner could maintain this resolve. Will had no qualms about noise or movement. When he hurt, he flinched. When his cock needed friction, his chest heaved. Even his kiss was impatient, vulnerable, emotive. Will Graham could not remain still for long enough to cum.

Will’s hand trembled on his cock as he pulled deeply, and he could not help allowing himself a lush gasp and the barest movement of hips.

Smiling, Hannibal gently touched the curve of Will’s ass. He felt his lover flinch and shrink under his palm. “Good morning, Will. Would you please turn over for me? I was rough last night, and I would like to ensure you aren’t irreparably damaged.”

Will whined into his arm, caught. He turned slowly, flushed from ears to groin, and settled uncomfortably under Hannibal’s gaze.

Hannibal watched the desperate throb of Will’s solid cock and licked his bottom lip, measuring the situation. “Are you hurt?”

“Hannibal, please—” Will swallowed, hoping that if he must be punished, he would at least be spared this game. 

“Perhaps I should look closer.” Hannibal took Will's cock in hand and carefully opened his slit, clinical in his inspection. “Are you tender, Will?”

He squirmed, looking away. “Yes.”

“Look at me, Will. That’s it. Does it hurt when I touch here?” He pressed his thumb into Will’s frenulum and stroked in slow circles.

Will felt his cock head leak and bit his lip. “No,” he mumbled. 

“And here?” He gave Will’s balls a gentle squeeze.

He swallowed. “No.”

Hannibal smoothed his palm over Will’s underside vein. “You seem perfectly capable of arousal, warm in my hand. Responsive. Eager, even.”

“Hannibal—”

He bent his head to kiss the swollen ridge of Will’s cock. “Eager enough to pleasure yourself without my permission.”

Will’s heart stopped long enough for his body to break into a cold sweat.

“Your scent is thick with musk this morning. I could smell your need in my sleep. I dreamt I was nestled between your legs, drinking in every pore.” He nuzzled against Will’s swelling cock, breathing in, pressing his lips over the glands as if to savor something he’d cooked himself. “Will. _My Will_. How could anything so sweet as this escape my knowledge?”

Will’s neck warmed dangerously. “Hannibal, your _mouth_ —”

“My careless, disobedient thing. What shall I do with you?” He licked gingerly at the base of Will’s sex, patient and adoring, testing the pressure of his tongue against each nerve.

“You feel so good,” Will said, “Please, don’t stop.”

Hannibal stroked calming circles into the divot of Will’s hip. “Shh, I’m here. The ache must be bone-deep for my slave to touch himself, hmm? I know. My body is familiar with such an ache. It must be tended, stoked like a flame and only extinguished when it has been allowed to burn long and slow. One’s own hand is rarely tolerant enough to offer said tending. Let me take care of you, Will.”

Will had no doubt of Hannibal’s ability to take care of him. He could feel his husband’s hot breath, and his heartbeat surged in his cock. “ _Please_.”

Hannibal got up from the bed and knelt by his bedside table. He opened the top drawer and withdrew a small brush, perhaps for painting or makeup. Smooth, sleek, and pointed at the tip, it looked to Will like something he did not want between his legs.

“What is that?” he asked, shifting nervously.

Hannibal closed the drawer and set his hand on Will’s knee, spreading him gently. “This is an instrument that I purchased specifically for this situation. It’s designed for delicate play. The brush is soft but firm, and the shape allows for concentrated attention.”

Will’s cock twitched helplessly.

“Since I doubt you will be able to keep your legs open, I will need to tie you.”

Blood rushed to the base of Will’s throat, and he swallowed against the hot flush. He waited while Hannibal retrieved the leather cuffs and chain links from their closet.

Hannibal took each wrist and ankle in hand and gently locked the cuffs around them. He kissed the four pulse points, pointedly tickling Will’s ankle with his lips, pleased to feel him squirm. He pulled out the straps from under the mattress and linked them with each chain, tightening generously. When he stepped back, Will’s body was displayed in full, spread wide for him and straining. “Lovely thing,” he said, gripping Will’s bicep and stroking his thumb over the taut muscle. “Do you enjoy being tied, Will?”

Will nodded, forcing himself to breathe calmly and dispel the tightness in his chest. He willed himself to relax into the pressure of the chains, giving in to the outward roll of his thighs that left him even more exposed. His cock bobbed warm and wet above his naval, swelling in anticipation of the tool in Hannibal’s hand.

“Would my slave like something around his throat, to keep him honest?”

His belly knotted at the question. _Honest_. Breathlessness had that effect on him. Hannibal wanted full control. “Yes.”

Hannibal retrieved Will’s collar from the closet. He tipped up Will’s chin. “Your bruises are still tender. This is gonna hurt.”

The thick leather band pressed into Will’s Adam’s apple and tightened behind his neck. He coughed, panicking briefly at the constriction. Each of the bruises under his collar ached sharply, and his breathing came shallow from his open mouth.

Hannibal smiled down at him and traced the leather with two fingers, unblinking in his eye contact. Will looked so helpless, tied and collared for him, fighting the compression despite his best efforts to remain still. Beautiful. “Do you wish it was my hand, Will? My hand taking your breath.” He stroked Will’s hair reassuringly.

Will’s body twitched, eyes wide and focused on breathing. In and out. In and out. His right wrist jerked involuntarily against the chain.

“I imagined it was your hand, years back, when the rope cut into my throat.”

Will’s answer came in a spiteful gasp. “Did—that make it bearable—”

His smile transformed into something ironic. “No. Starvation of any kind,” he tucked two fingers behind Will’s collar and pulled, “makes the body desperate.”

Will choked, and his tongue lapped lazily across his bottom lip. His cock dripped in delight.

“The desperation I felt, Will, thinking of your hands, was not unlike what you are feeling now.”

He moaned weakly, tugging at his cuffs, twisting his hips in search of friction.

“I intend,” Hannibal continued, “To use my hands.” He raised his chin with the bone of his bare wrist. The long-faded scar cut seamlessly across his throat. “Only after you have felt what proxy tools can do to your body.”

Will grinned. Reckonings were so much easier in the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being so patient with my erratic uploading! This chapter took forever for some reason. Many of you must have noticed that I increase the chapters by two pretty often. I absolutely ADORE writing this story and have many more kinks to try out, but I know that if I ratchet up the chapter number, I'll be overwhelmed and never finish. Just know that if you like this story, odds are, you have a lot more to look forward to :D
> 
> Thanks so much to all of you for reading! I love you very much and hope you have a lovely week <3


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